would tell us the deer were running, since the New Year signaled the first day of the special extended rifle season for hunting.

Connecting the dots later, we recalled seeing some hunters that morning, on our way north.

Homeward bound after spending New Years’ Day with Jackie’s bff from college and her family in Lincoln.

[2]

He’s a Husker, she’s a Wildcat. Their oldest was born the night we were wed. We’re godparents to their youngest. The one in between calls me “Bob.” I call her, “Alice.”

[3-6]

Greeted at the door by a 9-year old fellow middle child:

“Yo Bob. ‘Sup?”

Sadness at the end of the day. The kids don’t want us to leave. When human beings, regardless of their age, get misty at the prospect of Matson’s imminent departure, it strikes me that maybe something’s changing.

[7-12]

In the full-on darkness, we’d just crossed the border back into God’s Country and were ascending a Flint Hill heading south on U.S. 77, paralleling the heavily-wooded Blue River.

[13]

Eyes on the road, ears on the Dallas Mavericks-Minnesota Timberwolves play-by-play.